


Moa an the tynt sun

by DaibhidC



Category: Original Work
Genre: Advent Calendar, Fairy Tale Style, Gen, Scots Language, Twitterstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8784049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaibhidC/pseuds/DaibhidC
Summary: When winter mirk faws, Moa gaes tae bring back the licht.An advent fairy tale, telt in 25 bit-mair-than-daily tweets frae December 5th tae 25th 2015, translatit frae MicroSFF's AdvenTale the forgane year.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Moa and the lost sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806227) by [MicroSFF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicroSFF/pseuds/MicroSFF). 



Moa wauk tae mooin. She happit her blanket roond her as a plaid, pit her feet in her brogans, an went tae milk the coos.

Life muives slaw in the winter. Moa tak the milk tae the laich room an went tae bed tae wait for the sun. It didnae come

The sky abuin the smoch-hole in the thack remeent daurk. Moa's family wouldnae wak frae sleep, for aw her greetin.

Moa dried her tears. Than she hingit the lamp frae the door on the horn o the billie-gait, fillt his cassies, an led him east.

They makkit forrit throu the snaw, soon comin tae the brig crossin the river.  
"Hullo," Moa cawed, "Maister Trow?

The trow clam up.  
"Whaur's the sun?" he said "A cannae sleep in the mirk."  
"A'll airt it oot" said Moa "Wad ye help?"

They reakit the muntains an clam slaw an cannily. Whan they reakit the summit, they saw a blee licht in the east.

"Is it a wee licht or faur awa?" the trow askit.  
"It's in the glen," Moa said "Less there's a hole in the warld."

Moa fillt the lamp, an led the way doon the muntain. A'm no feart, she telt hersel, A hae a billie-gait an a trow.

As they cam nearer, the trow stappit."Listen!"  
There was a law dunderie soond. Moa lueked at him.  
"Wasnae me!" he said,

The licht, an the dundering, becam stranger. At lenth they saw a wappin wouf, holdin a baw the girst o Moa.

"Whit shoud we dae?" askit the trow.  
Moa swithert. The wouf was muckler an fearsamer than the trow. "We ask it. Mensely."

"Excuise me?"  
The wouf turnt tae luek at the three o them. "Nae, excuise me. Did ma dundering cag wauk ye?"

Moa coudnae stap frae askin. "Are ye hungry?"  
The wouf laucht an luekit frae her tae the billie-gait. "Aye. Aye, A am."

Moa didnae ken whit tae say tae that, but the trow jundied past her.  
"Sae bricht," he said, then curlt up, sleepin.

"D'ye ken whaur the sun is?" Moa askit.  
"A caucht it," the wouf said.  
"Is that it?"  
"Kind o."  
"But whit for?"  
"Tae eat."

"Ye canna eat the sun!" Moa breeshlit in an cuddlet the glowin baw.  
The wouf smile't an liftit his paw. The baw ris.

The baw wis wairm an swack. Moa haudit on, terrifee'd, as it slaw fleetit upwart. The wouf stuid wi his mooth gangin.

Far aneath her, Moa saw the trow sleepin an the billie-gait staundin forefaren. The wouf luekit up at her. Than he leapit.

The wouf seemt tae growe as it ris, wi its chaft gampin. The muckle jaw wappit Moa an the sun, an closed aboot them.

Mirk fell ower the warld, an the grund shakit as the wouf laundit. The trow steert and wis waukent,  
"No again."

The trow grippit the woufs tail siccarly, an gae it a haurd pull. The wouf raised its heid tae the sky an yowlt wi pain.

As Moa saw the chaft appen, she bendit her knees, pusht haurd at the wouf's tongue, an jamp, the sun afore her.

Ance she wis lowse o the wouf's chaft, Moa bray'd the sun up an awa. She watched it rise as she wis fawin, an smile't.

Her mam nudged her. "Sun's risin, time ye wauk."  
Moa sat up, heard her da ask:  
"Whit's the lamp daeing on the gait's horn?"

**Author's Note:**

> Oreeginally tweetit at [MicroSFFSco](https://twitter.com/MicroSFFsco), translatin [MicroSFF](https://twitter.com/MicroSFF) intae the Scots leed.
> 
> Ony mistaks foond by native speakers (A'm a Hielander, sae ma mither tongue's Scottish English) aefauldly apologeese't for.


End file.
